Instinct
by Concolor44
Summary: Beast Boy has to deal with the fallout from being struck by an alien weapon. Rated for language, violence, and implied sexual situations.
1. Chapter 1

_**Instinct**_

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_[A/N: This one has been in the back of my head_  
_for a while now and just won't leave me alone._  
_It's sort of an extrapolation of what happened_  
_to him in "Transition", except without the going-_  
_completely-batshit part. And please understand  
that this story is **not** a sequel or prequel or in  
any other way related to any of my other stories!  
It's just an expansion on an idea.  
__I've been TRYING to get the next chapter of  
__"Gone Wylde" finished, but my Muse had other  
__ideas. So did Real Life, which has, once again,  
__been kicking my butt.  
__Please feel free to pronounce the aliens' species  
__name any way you want, but keep in mind that  
__they possess neither teeth nor tongue, and only  
__the most rudimentary voice box.]_

_Disclaimer: Titans good! Copyright infringement bad! Me no do bad! Me no own Titan!_

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We've got a minute now, so I'm gonna try to get this down as best I can. Jinx loaned me her cool little recording dealy-doober, and promised that whatever I say will be preserved, no matter what. So here goes.

Oh, right! Station identification. Um, this is Terra. Tara Markov. I'm a Teen Titan. Well … sort of. And I know the news people probably have a lot more information about most o' the things that have been goin' on, but I think I need to tell my side anyway. So I am.

As invasions go, the Mmn!'m prob'ly thought they planned this one pretty well.

The first inkling anyone had that something was wrong was when this big-ass wormhole opened about two klicks behind The Watchtower, and a massive self-propelled particle cannon fell out. It hit the Justice League space station with an energy beam that tore through it like a bullet through aluminum foil. The hole wasn't very big, maybe a meter or so across, but it knocked out the electronics all through the station, an' it totally went dark.

Keep in mind that I wasn't there. But I talked to the ones that were, 'k? This is the straight shit, as far as I know.

Yeah. The Leaguers on board were Flash, Superman, Green Lantern, Hawkman, and Black Canary. As even more evidence (if they needed any, which I doubt) of the invaders' totally crazy attention to detail, the energy beam was two-colored, green and yellow. The green part was based on kryptonite radiation, and knocked Superman out cold; the yellow part just _**saturated**_ the place and drained Jordan's ring completely. It was only a good bit later that they were able to figure out that magic had been used in making that cannon, so it was a _**lot**_ more effective than a simple physics-based machine would have been. If Flash hadn't been there, been on duty at the time, and seen the wormhole open, none of 'em might have made it out alive. But he was. So he was able to collect 'em all as soon as the Mmn!'m attacked, bundle 'em into a shuttle, and get the hell out.

Things weren't any better on the ground. Eight more wormholes popped open, an' dropped eight siege ships _**right**_ over Brussels, London, Beijing, Bombay, Sydney, Los Angeles, New York, and Rio de Janeiro. One North American and both European branches of the Justice League International caught some serious fuckupedness before the automated defenses came online. The Australian and South American offices were basically totaled. So was L.A. The Asian branches were quicker, or the invaders were slower, maybe, and the heroes managed to get their defensive shields activated before the kinetic beams hit. Howsomever, the Mmn!'m had 'em all bottled up tight, and had force fields of their own as, you might say, a deterrent to the various military branches that eventually showed up to attack them. Hah. What a joke.

The only real problem the invaders seemed to have was that they couldn't count very well. Either that, or they had some sort of blind spot for the juvenile superhero teams. Y'know, lookin' back on things, that might not have been entirely unexpected, since their own youngsters were immobile, being stuck in a sort of pupal form and glued in place in their nursery. (Nightwing says it's 'cause the Mmn!'m 'lack an endoskeletal structure' – why can't he just say they don't have bones? – and, despite the rows of scissor-hook-looking things down each side and all those armor-plate things covering its front end, they reminded everybody of [Dick's words again] 'certain land-based mollusks'. That's how they got tagged right off the bat with the slang name 'Slugs'. Hee-hee! They weren't amused.) In any case, they completely ignored the Teen Titans wherever they were in the world.

And that was a big mistake.

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Strike Leader 2-Red-Short (that's the best translation we could manage, given how the few surviving Slugs refuse to communicate with us) stuck out an armored pseudopod to try to fend off the barrage of blows that Nightwing was giving it. But to do that, it had to expose the soft spot where it joined, and that opening was all that was needed. Three quick pricks made it wince (not that it had a face exactly, but it gave the ersatz-mollusk-equivalent of a wince – you get the idea) and pull the pseudopod back inside. Four seconds later, it detonated.

Nightwing had already jumped away and was using a loose sheet of metal roofing to shield himself from the multiple-birdarang explosion (and the rain of purple-tinged alien slime that followed). We were all very happy that the Slugs didn't smell as bad as they acted. In fact, as far as we could tell, they didn't really give off any sort of scent at all. Gar said he could smell them, though, and had proved that by tracking down a few hidden cells of the nasty things.

They weren't as tough to kill as you might think, given what they look like. If a snappin' turtle had somehow mated with a rag mop, and their offspring got knocked up by a garden slug, the result would prob'ly look something like what we were fightin' … if it was spray-painted in blue and green pastel stripes. Actually, if you didn't know what they were, and didn't know they were tryin' to take over the planet, and ignored the fact that they seemed _**totally**_ unconcerned by collateral deaths, they were sort of pretty. Assuming you unfocused your eyes enough to blur the outline. Anyhow, even though blunt force didn't seem to do much to 'em, edged weapons or energy blasts were another kettle o' fish. Whatever sort of home planet had produced them evidently didn't go in much for sharp edges, because the Mmn!'m didn't seem to have anything like a clotting factor in their … um … bodily fluid. One deep cut and they would begin to slowly deflate, kinda like my Mom's waterbed after the cats got through with it. Then they'd go unconscious and then they'd die.

Of course getting _**to**_ 'em to cut 'em in the first place was tricky, what with their personal force field generators. But it didn't take Cyborg very long to figure out a hack for those, and then it was open season on the Slugs.

They didn't take hints too good either. They couldn't seem to realize that they were being beaten. It was ... it was like the success of their attacks against the JLI meant there wouldn't be any other opposition, and they couldn't wrap their minds around the fact that they _**had**_ opposition in plenty. Oo, hey, yeah! That little bunch that attacked Japan! They got wiped out to a Slug by Bushido, that Honorary Teen Titan, 'cause his magical-type weapons weren't affected by the force fields. And while the Slugs had some really impressive energy weapons on their ships, it wasn't like that, one-on-one. For their own use most of 'em carried these bulky, no-frills projectile weapons that fired long, sharp ceramic needles that looked a little like a flechette round. Nasty if they hit you, but they had a real slow fire rate, like thirty a minute or some such. The standard North American military-issue M16 was a _**waaay**_ better weapon in all respects, and once the shields were down that got pretty damn obvious.

So, something like forty-two hours after first contact, the invasion had turned around and become a mop-up operation for the various armed forces around the world.

But I didn't come here to talk about global military maneuvers. I came to talk about Garfield Logan, aka Beast Boy, aka Changeling. And right now a very unhappy camper.

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Remember when I said that 'most' of the Slugs carried projectile weapons? Emphasis on 'most'? Well, it turned out that some squad leaders also carried a kind of … well, remember the old 'phasers' from the Star Trek TV show? Kinda like that, only bigger. Except they used magic. Sort of. It was, like, combined with a laser or some such. The JLI is still studyin' the few they scavenged and, last I heard, they hadn't even figured out what _**kind**_ of magic they use. Raven has one, too. She's really hoping … yeah, I'll get to that.

So there we were, helpin' the Army guys do mop-up in Newark. Lemme tell ya, I been through that place a few times, and I wasn't too keen on goin' back. Dirty, dangerous, and smelly, or so I always thought. Turns out I'd just seen the bad parts. Not that there weren't a LOT of bad parts, but it wasn't all like that. We were chasin' the bunch of Slugs that came out of this transport ship that crashed right in the middle of West Side Park. Messed up the north corner of the football field. But like I said earlier, shock just don't do much to Slugs, and I don't believe any of 'em died in the crash. They oozed out of the wreck and formed up ranks on the field. Then the police got there and it got crazy. The Slugs broke off into smaller groups and headed west, and that was when we got there.

Me and Gar teamed up with a squad of Rangers. Now, most Army guys are pretty much by-the-book, you know? Rules and regs and all that shit? Not the Rangers. They think on their feet, they got the tools and the talent, and that lieutenant knew how to use us. He didn't act like we were extra baggage, or just in his way or anything. You want my opinion, he was a lot better at it than Nightwing, who has a bad habit of taking everything personally. But I guess Lt. Rogers never had to train with ol' Bats, so he was good to go.

Anyhow, he had me doing transport, on account of I was faster than a chopper and could land us anywhere and could throw up a defensive earthwork in about a second … all of which I did. Me and two of the Rangers had some up-close-and-personal time with those nasty ceramic bullets of theirs (hell I still have the field-dressing on my arm) and none of us wanted a repeat, so I made sure there was four or five meters of hard dirt between us and them. The Lieutenant pointed out where each of us was to go and what we had to do, and we got busy.

I wanted to stick close to Gar. Ever since I gave up the charade and admitted to remembering everything, he's just been so sweet! You know, forgiving and stuff? Sometimes it feels like all that bad shit I did was just a horrible dream. But I know it's not. You know? I've been back to the cave a few times, and it feels …

… it feels …

… something …

Eh. I don't know the right word. Weird, I guess.

Anyways, Gar's a doll. We talked a lot. I mean a LOT-a-lot, about all kinds of stuff. Lots about our, uh, you know … feelings and shit. Neither one of us had anything LIKE a normal childhood that we could use as a base, and with him hanging around super-types since he was a kid, and me moving from place to place every few weeks for better than half my life … yeah. We talked. And talking led to sharing, and sharing led to … well, really caring about … you know. Each other. And then we admitted to thinking about each other as more than friends. Not like he wasn't up-front with that from the word 'go', you know?

But I can be totally dense, 'cause, you know, that 'feelings' stuff is some scary shit, and I didn't like to think about it. It never really … never worked out … for me … too good. Either I'd get hurt – what _usually_ happened – or I'd hurt someone else. I guess I pretty much sucked at it. Lots of baggage. But he didn't care, and he didn't let any of that shit stop him.

And then we were just sorta hangin' in his room one night, talking like we did all the time, and we sorta talked ourselves to sleep, leaning up against his lower bunk, curled up with each other on that ratty little rug. I was dead stiff when I woke up a few hours later, but the first thing I saw was his eyes, and he looked so … solemn. And I said, "What?" And he said, "You look like an angel." And I laughed and said, "In your dreams!" And he said, "You always are." And I won't lie. That floored me a little.

And then he kissed me.

It wasn't like I didn't know he wanted to. I'd have to be made of rock … heh, like, 'still', you know? … not to get that he liked me … like that. _'Liked' _me, liked me. You know. So I wasn't shocked or anything. But I wasn't expecting him to do it right that minute. I'd just woke up. My hair was a wreck and I really could have used a shower and I know my breath was prob'ly bad enough to peel paint. But he didn't care. He just leaned in and kissed me and his lips were so soft and warm and it surprised me, but in a good way, and then I kissed him back and … and we just sorta … kept going. We … um … didn't make it to breakfast.

Uh … yeah. I got a little off-topic. Sorry about that. I'll, um … I'll do some editing later. Need to make myself a note.

So. Where was I? Uh … right. Lt. Rogers had Gar and me split up. I was with the bigger group, about ten or eleven Rangers under Sergeant Wallace, and we were supposed to attack the main Slug concentration. Gar went with the Lieutenant and five men to scope out where the others were hiding. And there's where the, uh … the tricky part comes in.

See, Gar and Lt. Rogers spent a good three hours earlier talking about the various animals Gar could become, and what all different abilities they had. So when they split off from us, he morphed into an extinct kind of hyena thing. It's called a Megistotherium, and it's just about the scariest thing, to me anyway, that he can become. It's huge, for one thing, close to two meters at the shoulder and maybe four meters long, not including the tail. It's wide, and dense, and hairy, and its head is almost as big as I am.

And those jaws! I mean, _**damn!**_ The rest of its official name is 'osteothlates', which means 'bone crusher'. In that form, he's got a bite strength roughly twice that of a full-grown great white shark. He can bite right _**through**_ sheet steel, and anything organic doesn't have a chance. He could walk up to a grizzly bear and bite off its head without breakin' a sweat. Plus, his sense of smell is totally off the chart. Plus, he can run at about fifty klicks for hours and hours and never get tired. He's just … awesome. Yeah. That's the word, all right. And from what I heard, when they found the Slugs they were after, he, uh, kinda let the animal's instinct take over a little. I heard it was a real short fight.

But the Slugs were tricky, or one of 'em was. Musta been the leader. He had one of those phaser-things I mentioned before, right? And we … well, at the time, you know, nobody really had a clue how they worked so we all just tried to steer clear, and Gar's totally terrific at dodging, but … see, the Lieutenant told me the Slug was hiding, and that was kinda out of character, so nobody … yeah. It got off a lucky shot.

But, like I said, Gar's pretty damn tough in that form. The, uh … the weapon burned off a patch of fur on one shoulder and charred his skin pretty good in an area a little bigger than I could cover with one hand, and it hurt. It hurt him a lot, and he howled and jumped around, and I guess the Slug musta thought Gar was the biggest threat, 'cause he … he shot him again. Hit him in the neck. And Gar just about went crazy. Burns hurt, I know, but there was somethin' else goin' on with that beam. Had to be. Gar started running then, and he can put on one helluva burst of speed. He spotted where the Slug was shooting from and ran around to try to flank him. The Rangers had already opened up on the creep from their position, and … well. Long story short, they got the Slug, but not before he'd shot Gar again, this time on his left hip. And that shot … it, uh … it put him down, hard. He was just … lying there. See, I'd heard him howl, an' I knew that was a 'pain' howl, an' our group had already taken out the main bunch of Slugs so I wasn't really needed there, so I … I kinda grabbed me a good chunk of dirt and zipped over to where I'd heard the fight. And I got there right after the third shot, an' I saw Gar sort of … stagger, and … an' then he just … dropped.

I landed beside him and glommed onto that huge head and think I might have started to cry a little. I don't cry much. I learned a long time ago that it didn't do any good to cry for myself. But this was different. He didn't look so good, and was just lying there panting an' he …

Crap. Okay, hang on. We're moving out. Slugs spotted over in Peapack. I'll get the rest of this down later. Promise.

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_[A/N: Let me know what you think. The next chapter should be up in a week or so. Maybe less.]_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Instinct – Chapter 2**_

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This sucks. I mean, totally sucks crispy-fried ass.

Okay, um … I guess it's been about … seven hours. Yeah. Oh, right, it's me again, Terra. Jinx says I'm s'posed to say that. It was mid-afternoon when I put the first part in, an' it's pushin' 2200 real hard now, accordin' to the clock on what's left of that wall.

Stinkin' Slugs. I hope they all rot.

We had Hell's own time trackin' down the slimy bastards. It's like they're gettin' sneakier by the hour. Or maybe we just killed off all the stupid ones and the only ones left now are the ones that were dangerous all along. Nightwing says we'll be huntin' Slugs for years, assumin' they don't starve or some shit. He talked a while about that movie "Independence Day" and said how there were hundreds, maybe thousands of those smelly bad-nasties left, most of 'em already flyin' an advanced fighter craft, and that life after they destroyed the mother-ship was gonna be one, big, long, protracted war of extermination. And it wouldn't be much fun.

I guess we can relate, huh?

God, I'm tired. Besides a couple cat-naps in the plane, I've been awake for the last thirty-eight hours. Lost count of the number of cups of coffee I tossed back.

_[indistinct mumbling in the background]_

What?

_[more indistinct mumbling in the background]_

Yeah, I'll take a Dr. Turbo Code Red if ya got it. Thanks.

_[muffled smack, then sound of a pop-top can opening]_

Oh, yeah, that's the stuff.

_[pause for several seconds]_

That oughta hold me for a while.

_[sound of empty can rattling into a metal container]_

Where was I? Uh … Nightwing said … wait, did I? … yeah, think I covered that already. Damn head feels like it's stuffed full o' moldy cardboard. Okay. Well, we hit Peapack about 1530 and all hell broke loose. Slugs had infested this industrial park-type place just east o' the 206, and we had to do a building-by-building clear-out. Local gooberment didn't want to just blow it up, and really, that prob'ly wouldn't have killed 'em anyhow. I was havin' a hard time keepin' focused, 'cause besides my lack of sleep I was worried about Gar, and **not** payin' attention got me shot again. Thankfully, this time Raven was handy and healed me before I lost too much blood (she doesn't hold grudges, even if she won't ever really trust me again … not that I blame her). Those damn ceramic bullets _**hurt! **_They're almost like crossbow bolts, 'cept lots faster, an' that one went clear through my shoulder. Nicked an artery. But I got a secret I'll let ya in on in a minute.

We finally got 'em cleaned out. Lost near a dozen army boys when one o' the Slugs blew up an APC, but as far as I know that was it. When it came down to a straight firefight, we handed 'em their slimy asses in a Ziploc. And don't they just make a godawful mess when a shower of armor-piercing rounds scatters 'em all over the ground!

I had somethin' funny happen right toward the end of the fight. I was coverin' a squad that was tryin' to get through a barred door (sneakin' up on 'em from behind, right?) when all-a-sudden we came under fire. I got a wall o' dirt up ASAP, so nobody got hurt, but, see, I was the one that noticed the two Slugs that sneaked out of the building behind us. And one of 'em shot at me. It was gonna be a dead-on score, 'cause it was, like, not even half a _**second**_ between me seein' 'em and them shooting. And I guess I just sort of, you know, like a reflex, tried to stop the bullet with my powers. And … I almost did.

Yeah, that's the crazy thing, right? I can toss dirt and rocks and stuff around all day, and I don't even get tired or nothin' anymore. But if I try it with stuff that's _**made**_ out of dirt an' rocks, like glass or ceramic tiles, it's no-can-do. It's almost like I can't feel it the same way. I mean, I can feel it, but there's a huge difference between the way I can feel a rock and the way I feel a piece of glass. It's like I can't … I dunno … can't get a grip on the glass. Or any other vitreous-fired clay, or refined metal, even though just about all rocks contain aluminum and a lot of 'em have iron in there somewhere. Now, most brick? Yeah, I'm all over me some brick. Concrete, too. Unless it's coated with somethin' that's been fired to a glass-like state.

That bullet was gonna hit me dead-center torso. But it didn't. It veered off, and stuck in the ground. Then I got the dirt up in front of us, and one of the boys pulled out a couple of fragmentation grenades, and six seconds later that part of the fight was over. Slugs don't do shrapnel so good. Sharp edges, really hot, goin' really fast, right?

I went over and squatted down beside the bullet where it was stickin' out o' the ground, and stared at it good and hard. And … I could feel it.

It was a weird kind of excitement, bein' able to feel a made object that wasn't brick. It was new an' different, you know? So I concentrated, an' pulled it out of the ground with my powers, and there it was, hangin' in the air in front of me, big as life. Its motions were a little sluggish (heehee! 'cause they're made by Slugs, right?) but I could move it.

It was a really light pastel green, fading into a darker green near the back end, and the color and the slick surface reminded me of some ceramic cutting tool inserts I'd seen before. It wasn't all the same, either. I mean, it was a mixture of different materials, kinda like rebar in concrete. The part I could feel was the tiny little whiskers of some reinforcing material that ran all through it. I reached out and grabbed it like it was the Hope Diamond, and my heart just plain hammered on my ribs. If I really _**could**_ control these things …

Didn't get a chance to see right then. At five o'clock-ish we all bundled onto a VTOL and headed southwest for Bryn Mawr Pennsylvania. There were Slugs reported in the trees east of the college, an' we were s'posed to land on their baseball field. I had a few minutes and made sure to spend 'em with Gar.

He was, like, totally pissed off. His burns hurt, even though Raven had pretty much healed him, and they made it hard to concentrate on maintaining his form. His body kept wantin' to revert to that prehistoric hyena, and he had to stay in human form by sheer will power. It made him not much fun to talk to. But I could hold him, and I did. I was just so glad he wasn't permanently hurt.

Hang on, Nightwing's callin' a meetin'.

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Okay, I'm back. Fill you in on the meeting in a minute. First, though … I gotta tell ya about how I learned some things this afternoon. Once I had the 'flavor' of the Slugs' bullets, I realized that I could probably 'feel' any concentration of the aliens, if they were armed with their standard weapons. I found the major in charge of our operation and told him what I'd discovered, an' he got pretty excited. He was keen to let me try, anyhow, and said he didn't mind if I stuck close to Gar when we landed.

I feel like I'm gettin' ahead of myself here. Don't wanna miss anything, you know? But there's just a lot to tell.

We spread out in squads, six per, an' every squad had a flame-thrower. Turns out the intel we got during the flight said they shrivel up an' die even quicker 'n humans do when the napalm gets hold of 'em. Not that we wanted to set the woods on fire or anything, but, hey, just in case, you know?

Damn good thing, too. Bunch o' Slugs in this big culvert thing under the road, an' it was touch and go there for half a minute. One of 'em had a phaser … guess I'll just call 'em that … an' it did a number on our truck. I wrapped the ground down and around the end of the tunnel to cut off its aim, and the sergeant sent his flame-thrower guy over to the other side. One of the Slugs popped up an' tried to get off a shot, and got its face – front end? eh, whatevs – got it burned off for his trouble. The rest of 'em came boilin' out then like a kicked anthill, tryin' to get away into the woods, and he just laid down a lake of fire for 'em. Then just to make sure he got 'em all, he sent a nice jet into the culvert.

So. Changeling. Yeah. He was with us. With me. I stuck to him like a band-aid. He'd flip back an forth between extinct-hyena-critter and human every few minutes, like the strain of staying in what _**had**_ been his 'resting' form was gettin' to be too much. I finally just told him to stay big. He did, an' I crawled up on him.

His hair was dense, and really long, and his back was three times as wide as I am; he made a pretty good couch. I told him so. He just turned that godawful-huge head around and gave me the eye, and blew a long breath out between his flews, and flopped his muzzle down onto the ground. But it wasn't half a minute before the sergeant called us to move out. I went to hop down, but Gar shook his head, an' gave me what I thought might have been a hopeful look. He wanted me to ride him. So I did.

You ever ride on the back of a giant hyena? It's really pretty cool. See, Gar doesn't smell bad when he takes on an animal form. Not unless, you know, he gets dirty, or turns into a skunk or a polecat or something that's _**s'posed**_ to smell. We talked about it a lot. His shape-shifting, I mean. Because, you know, he's got that uniform on when he's human, but he's just … green … when he's an animal. He spent a lot of time researching his powers. So did Cyborg. Raven, too, now and then, when he had a question he thought she could answer. But, see, the upshot is that he doesn't really change his form. He swaps it. The power isn't physical … it's psychic.

Yeah, that's kinda hard for me, too. Raven thinks there's this pocket universe somewhere, a little, tiny dimension that Gar can get to that lets him store mass or use it. I don't know so much about that. But when he turns into an elephant, he masses four or five thousand kilos. And it sure don't all come from his human form! But he can also turn into a midge fly, or even an amoeba, so all his human mass has to go somewhere. I guess the 'private dimension' answer works okay. But it don't make a whole lot of sense to me.

Anyway, what I mean is, he always just smells like himself. And I like that smell. So I leaned forward and rested my face on his back and held onto that long hair. It was so smooth. Uh, the ride, I mean. Not the hair. The hair … well, the guard hairs anyway … they were pretty coarse, and longer than my hand, so it was easy to hang on.

We didn't run long, though, just to get back to the campus. The Slugs had snuck into the Science Building.

I never been to Bryn Mawr before we got there to fight aliens, and that's just a damn shame. It's gorgeous. The buildings are all made of stone and look all medieval an' shit, and it's got really pretty trees all over.

Make that "had" trees. The Slugs set a good big parcel of 'em on fire. Slimy bastards. Nightwing thinks they just did it for pure meanness. They didn't get any kind of position advantage out of the fire, that's for damn sure. And we've seen plenty of evidence that the Slugs don't place any kind o' value on human life.

It got pretty hot an' heavy there for maybe half an hour before we got 'em all (we thought). Along about sunset, yeah, an' just after, when it was gettin' hard to see details, another one o' their little troop transports attacked. That on-board energy cannon o' theirs? Nothin' to sneeze at, lemme tell ya. We had to scatter some ourselves. An' me an' Gar, we stuck together, just like we'd been doin', so when the main fight came ...

Well, shit. Gotta go. Major says another one showed up south of Philadelphia, and we're on tap to hit 'em, so we're all pilin' into the chopper. Suits me. I'm bushed. Maybe I can get another nap. Where do these damn things keep comin' from, anyway? But don't worry, I'm not finished. Later.


	3. Chapter 3

_**Instinct – Chapter 3**_

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We finally got some sleep. Me and Gar, I mean.

Okay, um … it's the next day now. Thursday. I started this record yesterday. Oh, um, this is Tara Markov. But you prob'ly figured that out from my voice. Uh, and it's close to noon. Hang on, lemme look … okay, not as close as I thought. Ten forty-two. But I'm starving anyway. Gotta go after some lunch pretty soon.

So, we got some sleep. Right, I said that. When we got to Philly, the fight was over. Turns out a big bunch of Marine Force Recon guys got there first, an' they're just as badass as the Rangers. Couple o' their snipers knocked off the Slug lookouts from better'n a klick out. Those guys were funny. One of 'em had this sticker on his helmet that said, "Marine Sniper: You can run, but you'll just die tired." That made me laugh, even as exhausted as I was. They'd knocked together some special RPGs, too, designed to do as much cutting as possible, and they brought every mini-gun they could get their hands on, an' … well, you remember what I said about handin' the Slugs their asses? Yeah. When the Marines hit 'em, they didn't have any asses left to hand out. We heard some more on the way over 'bout the clean-up in South America. Those guys didn't even _**bother**_ with ground forces, most o' the time. The Brazilian Air Force had a bunch of A-10 Warthogs, armed with their standard Vulcan cannons. They made a few passes over the Slugs' positions with those, and it was all over. I guess our Air Force didn't wanna use 'em in populated areas or somethin'. Can't say I'm sorry.

So the Army put us up in a hotel an' told us to get some sleep – an' by 'us' I mean all the Titans – an' we all crashed. Well, except for Raven. She did that float-and-meditate thing right beside Gar, 'cause she was worried about him, too. Maybe she doesn't let on like most people, but I can tell. We're more alike than she wants to admit. That whole 'powers you can't really control' thing, you know? Of course, _**she**_ went ahead and faced her demons – well, Demon, anyhow. She collected the original Titans an' shaped 'em into a group that had what she figured might be enough juice to make a stand against her ol' man when he showed his ugly mug. Me? I joined forces with their worst enemy and tried to kill the only people that every really accepted me. Can't get much stupider than that.

But they're helpin' me work through all that, and it ain't what I need to talk about anyhow. Gar changed back to a Megisto … therium? Damn, that's a long name. I'm just gonna call it a Mega. 'Cause he is. Anyway, we went to sleep on – no wait, okay, the military put us in a hotel, right? Did I say that? I think so. They did a few rooms for the guys and a few for the girls, 'cause, like, there's a LOT of Titans when you pull 'em in from all over the world. About half of us are here and the other half in Europe, where they still have a major Slug problem, too. The Asian heroes, once we got the Slugs' force fields down, came out in force an' it wasn't much of a fight, from what I hear. They're still cleanin' up the stragglers, but they don't need any help. An' as soon as Green Lantern got his ring recharged, he zipped off to Australia an' has been down there ever since. He said he didn't need any help, either, since it was just a long string o' search-and-destroy. He's, uh … kinda intense sometimes.

Hotel. Yeah. Me an' Gar got a room of our own on account of we're a couple, an' even if we are still minors, they … um, that is, I guess bein' a Titan has some privileges attached. So we had a room with _**two**_ king size beds. Pretty cool. In the Tower, he's got a bunk bed and I've got a standard double, an' we're neither one of us all that big so fittin' ain't really a problem, but man! That king size bed was totally huge! But Gar was … um … I guess he was out of sorts. He didn't wanna talk. Kept concentratin' on stayin' human. I told him he could just rest as a Mega, but he got … well, he got kinda worked up over that. Said he had to 'maintain', that if he stayed as a Mega too long he might not be able to switch back.

Raven came by while we were argu … um, while we talked about that. Her and Jinx. They're an item. Did I mention that already? I think I meant to. I used to say she was jealous of me because Gar picked me over her, but now I know I was just shovelin' shit, 'cause she was never int'rested in him as anything but a friend. 'course he's a _**good**_ friend. Him an' Raven are _**that**_ close. They got the room next to ours. Her an' Jinx, I mean. Anyway, they dropped in, an' Raven floated over an' sat next to us and stared hard at Gar. She wanted to know if it would be okay to poke around in his head. He bared his teeth at her – seriously, just like a dog – but then it looked like he realized what he was doin' an' his ears drooped pretty bad.

She leaned in an' put her fingers on 'is head an' they both closed their eyes. 'bout half a minute later, Gar started to transform.

Now, see, most o' the time when he shifts, it takes about a tenth of a second, even if he's goin' from flea to dinosaur. If he's hurt it might take longer, just because his … was it his subconscious? Maybe? … anyway, the way he figures out what to turn into, it's kinda halfway automatic. If he wants to fly, he pops into a bird. What kind might depend on where he is or what the bird has to do, you know? If he needs to scout the streets, he'll be an eagle or a hawk. If he's in a closed space and needs maneuverability, he'll be a hummingbird or a finch or some such. He doesn't have to think about exactly what animal to become, 'cause the scene helps to set his choice. But it happens real fast, unless somethin' interrupts him or distracts him, or if he's bad hurt.

When he started to transform, it was slow, and kind of … soft. Yeah, that's a word. Like he got really … fuzzy. Then he started to sorta swell, an' he just gradually grew into the Mega. Took better'n a minute. Just 'fore he got done, there was a loud creaky sound an' the bed's legs buckled an' the frame flopped down to the floor. Megas are really heavy. It wasn't but maybe a ten-centimeter drop, an' it didn't look like it bothered him at all. Raven was still floaty, so she didn't even notice.

Once he was finished turning into a Mega, Raven pulled back. She was sweatin', an' I started to get worried. So I asked her what was wrong, and she said some things about "set points" and "basal DNA" an' a few other bits I didn't get. Made me feel like a total Estupido. But then she got this sort of … gentle look in her eyes. That don't happen too often. She's real guarded … well, 'cept around Jinx. Jinx can get her to smile, or even laugh sometimes, which is cute, but it ain't always a good thing. We go through more light bulbs that way. But, what I meant was, she looked at me like she felt sorry for me and said, "You really do care for him, do you not?" And I said, "Care for him, hell! I love him!" And she said, "He is a very fortunate young man." And I just sorta blushed, 'cause she doesn't say things like that unless she really means it. But then she put her hand on my arm, an' that really got my attention, 'cause she don't get touchy with anybody (well, except Jinx) and she said, "I will do everything I can for him. But you should be aware that he soon may not be the man you fell in love with." And I didn't know _**what**_ to say to that, but when she used her thumb to wipe at my cheek I realized my eyes were leaking. Then she just left. Jinx came over an' gave me a hug an' asked how the recorder thing was workin' for me. I sniffed back those stupid tears an' said it was doin' okay. She patted me and said Raven knew what she was doin', and if anybody could help Gar, it was her. And she left, too.

So I climbed up on top of Gar an closed my eyes, and that was all I knew 'til I woke up a few minutes ago. I'm gonna go see if I can find Raven now.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 11:18am, Thursday 12 May.  
Location: King's Mark Hotel, Philadelphia, PA.  
Subject: Garfield Logan.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

Subject was struck approximately 13:00 yesterday by a portable energy weapon of the alien race colloquially known as 'Slugs'. The name by which they refer to themselves is Mmn!'m, which sounds very little different from most of the rest of their language, much of which is below the range of normal human hearing. As of 09:50 today the Justice League still had not determined their planet of origin. There is some conjecture that they may be a trans-dimensional race. That would help to explain why the inner workings of their weapons remain such a mystery. It has already been discovered that they do not possess DNA, and their bodily fluids are mildly toxic to humans. The actual mechanism by which species diversity is maintained for their race is yet unknown.

In any case, they are utterly uncooperative during interrogation. They appear to understand, or at least grasp, our speech, which is not surprising considering that they must have studied us in some depth to mount such an initially effective invasion. But they will not respond to anything we ask, and their emotions are so totally foreign that I can't make anything of them. We do not have access to a more competent telepath, the Martian Manhunter being off-world at present, and the other few I might contact have urgent issues of their own to deal with.

The example weapon that I was given to study is relatively simple in its design, but its internal power source is an enigma. It does not appear to run on electricity, but rather on some form of extra-dimensional energy; magic, if you will. But it is not a form of magic that I recognize. That is also true for Zatanna and Dr. Fate. I have entertained the notion of allowing Mumbo to examine the weapon if I exhaust all other options.

As for the subject, he has suffered an as-yet unidentifiable alteration of his basal DNA state, making it more unstable than usual. This has not yet disabled his ability to transform, but that may come. His system has always been … difficult to understand. It is my position that he accesses a small pocket dimension to either borrow or store mass. Until proved otherwise, I will assume this. It does not make my job any easier, however. It is possible that the after-effect of the beam that struck him has disrupted his communication with that pocket dimension, thus causing his body to attempt to revert to the form he was in when struck. If so, his continued attempts to remain 'human' may be straining the connection. I attempted to explain this and encourage him to adopt the Megistotherium as his 'resting' state, but he was unaccountably provoked by my suggestion. It was necessary that I remove myself from his presence for a time, allowing Terra to calm him. Somewhat. Jinx had accompanied me to the subject's room, and stayed behind to help Terra. I will return this device to her when I complete the recording.

My initial examination of the subject revealed a heretofore unknown duality in his mind, entirely apart from the horrific levels of anxiety. He has always prided himself on his level of control over his shape-shifting ability, even if he occasionally loses that control. One episode that comes immediately to mind was when he contracted a cold and made random shifts whenever he sneezed. He glosses over that incident if it comes up in conversation. Nevertheless, I feel that it is important, for reasons I am not quite able fully to express yet, for him to rest in whatever state his body wishes to prefer as 'baseline'. It seems to me that what he needs is to allow his system to lie fallow, as it were, for a while so it may heal. This is what Victor Stone would refer to as a 'gut feeling'. I dislike relying on gut feelings, especially when I cannot craft a cogent explanation for why I have said feeling.

There is an alarming amount of turmoil in his mind. He is afraid of losing his humanity, and I cannot say that is not a possibility. There are so many aspects of his power that we do not fully – or even partially – understand. I am loth to pass this information on to Terra. I have touched her mind recently, and rarely have I felt a more … _complete_ emotion than the love she holds for him. I shudder to imagine what would happen to her, were he to …

_[indistinct muttering in the background]_

Pardon me?

_[indistinct muttering in the background]_

It would seem that we are being called to another meeting. I shall endeavor to complete this record afterwards. Raven out.


	4. Chapter 4

_**Instinct – Chapter 4**_

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 09:22pm, Thursday 12 May.  
Location: Lock Haven, PA.  
Subject: Garfield Logan.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

Garfield Logan was last seen at approximately 1930. Major Brandon has ...

Wait. My apologies. I have included insufficient information. For that matter, I have explored only a fraction of the information we have. Pardon me. The urgency of the situation seems to have clouded my judgment.

_[a brief silence, indistinct muttering, another brief silence, and more indistinct muttering]_

_[sound of door opening and then Jinx speaking]_ All right. I'm here. What's up, Rae?

I need assistance in accessing Terra's most recent records. You did say the system would record everything she put into her device, did you not?

_[Jinx speaking] _ Oh, that's no prob. Here. Lemme have yours a sec.

_[there is a silence of several seconds]_

_[Jinx speaking]_ Okay, there ya go.

Very well. She seems to have left four separate records.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Hey. It's Terra again. It's, uh … hang on … dang it, dunno why Robin doesn't put a clock on the outside o' these T-Coms … right, it's a few minutes past one. Um, 1304 hours they like to say.

Gar's been in his Mega form since we went to sleep this morning. He's still asleep now. I woke up hungry. Guess usin' my powers as much as I have been builds an appetite. I went an' got some burgers. Talked to that concierge guy, an' they let me bring a few big steaks back up to the room. I'll give 'em to Gar when he wakes up. If he has to stay a Mega, he's gonna hafta get over being a vegetarian. 'cause they ain't.

But, yeah, Raven. I found Raven and talked to her, and she was a lot more open than she usually is, at least to me. Makes me kinda wonder. Anyway, she's still tryin' to do some research on that weird weapon. She gave me a doodad to put on Gar. Said it would monitor … something. I don't remember her exact words. But she got this look in her eye, and I don't know so much that I like it. It's like …

Yeah ... it's like the same sorta look the doctor gives the family when he's about to tell 'em that Mom's condition is terminal. You know? Gave me the shivers.

So I'm back in the room now and I'm gonna wake him up. Robin caught me in the hallway and said we'd prob'ly be movin' out with the Rangers in a couple hours. Maybe sooner. So I'll see if I can't get Gar to eat somethin' and then maybe we can talk.

. . .

. . .

. . .

I'm real worried about him. Gar, that is. He won't eat. Um, this is Terra, again. It's pushin' two now, an' Robin says we need to stay together in his room so we can get with the troops in a hurry. I'm in his bathroom 'cause I don't really want Gar to hear this, and …

Well, shit. Just got the beep. We're headin' out to the choppers now. More later.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Stinkin' Slugs. Musta been a million of 'em. Hey, it's Terra again. We're in the air now, and Gar's not tryin' to stay human, for the time bein', 'cause it's tough on him to stay that way. His system keeps wantin' to flip back to the Mega. Somethin' else he found out is that it's easier for him to morph to larger animals than smaller ones now. Used to be th' other way 'round. So sometimes now he morphs between the Mega and a water buffalo or a rhino or somethin'. Makes it easier on the pilot, too. The first time he flipped from human to Mega after we were in the air, we just about fell into a barrel roll. The pilot thought we'd been shot, and _was he __**pissed**_ when he found out it was just Gar doin' a morph!

We're headed out into the middle o' Pennsylvania somewhere. I think it's called … Lock Heart? Nah, that doesn't sound right. Anyway, they've got a Slug problem and we're the closest cleanup crew.

Been talkin' to some o' the Rangers. They're good guys, and not just good at kickin' ass. Somethin' I've picked up from 'em is that your average soldier – and these guys in particular – he don't fight for some abstract concept like 'liberty' or 'freedom', or because they're patriotic or anything. They fight for the other guys in their unit. They're close, like, you know, closer than just friends and closer than most family. And this Slug situation has 'em all worked up somethin' fierce.

Two of the guys in the unit are from Philadelphia, and at one point we were fightin' Slugs about five or six blocks from his parents' place. You can bet he was puttin' everything he had into that battle.

Okay. No more yak. Gar's back in his Mega form. He moved up front so as to not mess up the weight distribution.

I'm really worried about him. He won't talk to me. Then when he does, he's … real short with me. He's short with everybody. Guess he's worried, too.

I'm … yeah. Okay, I guess that's all I've got to say right now. More later, if I need to.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Oh … God … this hurts. I never … had a … broke leg before.

_[several seconds of windy background noise pass]_

Hold on.

_[nearly a minute passes while faint sounds of battle leak through]_

You son of a bitch!

_[there is a loud, scraping thud]_

Shit!

_[several more loud impacts occur, and a scream of frustration from Terra]_

Damn it. I lost sight of it. Raven, if you can hear this, _**please**_ come and help me! Please! I gotta … find Gar. I'd use the T-Com, but it … got smashed … _**damn**_, that hurts … same time my leg did. I formed up a cast thingy out of rock ... and I think it's … got the bleeding stopped. But I gotta look for Gar.

Raven, they shot him again! And I think it was a … a different kinda gun or somethin'. The beam looked different, more reddish and darker, an' it … hurt him. Oh, God, Raven, that howl! I think I died a little when I heard it.

I gotta find him! He's hurt! He's hurt an' scared an' runnin'. I sliced up the Slug that did it. Pulled some knives of rock outta the ground and … damn … turned him into Slug steaks. But I wasn't quick enough and they … he was ….

Damn, can't find a position where this don't hurt.

Raven, please come find me! Please! Get Jinx to track it, or Robin, or … something! Just, please come! He's hurt. I'm … I'm afraid.

I'm afraid he might …

_[a long count of five passes, then a ragged sniffle]_

Just please come. I'm goin' after him now. I hope I can find him … before I … lose the light. Not too far to sundown.

I'll make a … another entry … when I find him. If I can.

. . .

. . .

. . .

This is Jinx. It's about a quarter of ten pm now. Raven would be doing this, but she's a little distracted.

We'd been looking for Terra and Beast Boy for close to two hours now, and turned up exactly dick until Raven got a lock on Terra's mind. She's being treated at the aid station now.

Poor kid. She looked … pretty rough. Pale as a ghost. Lost some blood, you want my opinion. Damn good job we found her when we did. She hardly had the strength to move a pebble.

_[a long sigh precedes a handful of seconds of silence]_

The land around Lock Haven is rough and lots of it is heavily wooded. I'm told there's caves everywhere, too, so he might not be above-ground at all. Add that to the fact that a few of the Slugs seem to have found them as well, and you've got the current shit-pot we're dealing with. Raven's pushing herself. She's flitting around the countryside in her Great Bird form, trying to find him psychically. Stone's done something to one of his sensors, and he's out there, too. Me and Star and Rob are stuck with helpin' the Rangers.

_[a sudden indistinct comment draws her attention away for a moment, and she laughs]_

Heh. Corporal Morris was first in line to tell me that _**nobody**_ gets 'stuck' with the Rangers. It's a privilege.

Yeah, I'm talking about you!

'cause you're funny, that's why!

Ha. Maybe if I didn't already have a girlfriend. You _**are**_ kinda cute. You like bein' tied up?

Heh. That got rid of him. Where was I? Um … yeah, Raven and Stone are looking for BB. According to Terra, he was wounded and running, and I've seen how much ground that Megistotherium can cover. I'm not betting on anything positive right now. But, hell, I've been wrong before.

Maybe he'll steer clear of the Slugs, or they just won't cross paths. Maybe he'll hole up somewhere and lick his wounds. I hope to hell he comes through all right. I'll miss the little guy something awful if …

Nah. Don't think that way, Jinx. He's tough. Tougher than people give him credit for. Smarter, too, even if he does act like a goofball most of the time.

Of course, he **_hasn't_ **been acting that way since this whole Mega thing got started. Sober as a judge, that one.

Hm. Raven's calling. Later.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 01:19am, Friday 13 May.  
Location: Lock Haven, PA.  
Subject: Garfield Logan.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

It is very telling how quickly one can adapt one's expectations to a given set of circumstances. In this instance, I had gotten used to Terra being able to erect a protective earthwork in a matter of seconds. Once in place, she did not need to concentrate to maintain it, and it would free us all up for other activities. With her temporarily out of action, I have been using my soul-self to form shields around our group very frequently. It was beginning to get irritating.

I finally got a first-hand taste of that "phaser" as Terra refers to it. One of the groups we encountered used one on my shield. It felt very strange, but did not seem to tax my abilities any more than, say, automatic rifle fire. Nor do I seem to have any lingering effects.

I can only conjecture that Garfield Logan's unique cellular structure must have interacted with the energies in the beam to leave a deleterious effect on his system. No one, as far as I am aware, has yet discovered the secrets behind the Mmn!'m weapon. I still do not understand how the power matrix operates, and I greatly fear that if I do not uncover the secret, Beast Boy may be in grave danger. I think – and again, this is purely speculation – that the most likely outcome will be that he must remain in Megistotherium form permanently. That would be bad enough. But another possibility is that the mystical energies are actually slowly degrading his system on the mitochondrial level, and if that situation is not reversed, he will in all likelihood die.

I would not care to be near Terra when that happens.

Terra is quite the study in contradictions herself. She thinks that I do not trust her. This is not the case. I have been in her head enough times since her return that I am confident that no trace of the underhanded quisling she used to be remains. It has been expunged – eradicated and replaced by her love for Garfield. It is really quite something to experience, and I must confess that I have made excuses on more than one occasion to be near them when they are having what they think is a private moment. The feelings of love that they generate for each other! It is like bathing in solidified sunlight. I can get a boost from five minutes of that equal to an hour of meditation, and gain a brighter mood in the bargain. I hope they will forgive me this little indulgence, if they ever find out.

But … yes. The first order of business is to find Garfield Logan. I followed his emotional spoor for a while, but it faded out, almost as if he had slowly gone unconscious. This does not give me, as Jinx likes to say, 'the warm fuzzles'. I fear that his animal side has taken over. If that truly is the case, I may not be able to find him via psychic means at all. His mind would be too alien, all the more so due to his use of an extinct form.

I pressed myself a bit further than I believe I should have this evening. But Beast Boy may be – make that, probably is – running out of time. If I do not find him soon, we may not find him at all until his mind is so far gone it is irretrievable. But I cannot worry over this fact at the moment. I require meditation, if I am to be of any use in the morning. Jinx has thoughtfully laid out a tea cozy and a selection of scones beside my bed. I will have somewhat to eat and then attempt to replenish my energies.

Raven out.


	5. Chapter 5

_**Instinct – Chapter 5**_

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 08:45am, Friday 13 May.  
Location: Lock Haven, PA.  
Subject: Garfield Logan.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

Our teammate is yet unaccounted-for. I cannot help but feel some responsibility for this.

I went to Victor's room at 0540 and found that he had already completed his recharge and was working on another method for locating Garfield. We had hoped that the medical monitor he had built earlier would give us his location while he was shifted, but this does not seem to be the case. Although it does give a signal, indicating that it is still functioning, the GPS routine is scrambled. So he is alive. Somewhere.

We received word shortly after seven that two more large cells of Mmn!'m had been encountered in this vicinity. The latest intelligence from the League (and this little more than rumor) would indicate that they believe the invaders are still entering our world in some as-yet-unknown fashion. Their numbers clearly show this, as the initial flotilla of invasion craft have all been, to use a term the Rangers preferred, "pacified", and there are many more active individuals on the ground than can be accounted for in the first wave. So now, not only do we have to find and hopefully cure Garfield, we also have to develop some way to prevent further incursion by a system we don't understand and haven't located.

As Jinx observed, we might be just plain fucked.

I will be leaving very shortly to canvass the area again. Victor has said that his latest device will be complete soon, and that it will accomplish two things: it will enhance my empathic field, and will target Garfield's psychic signature. I am not sure how he has managed to do this, since by my own experience his mind changes significantly when he is in Megistotherium form. But I trust Victor – as much as I trust Jinx, which is, believe me, saying something – and if he says this will help, I will certainly use it.

I will record more later. Raven out.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Hey. This is Jinx. It's mid-afternoon sometime. The away-team got back with BB about an hour ago. I'm just glad Terra's still out of it. Don't think she'd handle this too well.

I won't candy-coat it. He looks like shit. He's only semi-conscious. Half his fur is burned off and he has a couple of pretty good sized leaky puncture wounds on one flank. Damn Slugs. But according to Stone, from the looks of things there in that bunch o' caves where they found him, he gave better than he got. A lot better. He _**is**_ still alive, after all, which is more than I can say for the hundred-odd Slugs he ripped to shreds.

Raven's with him. She's tryin' to get in touch with his mind, but I can tell …

… yeah. Not gonna turn out good. Just that look in her eyes …

Damn Slugs. Hate 'em so fuckin' much.

Hey. She's out now. I'ma go talk to her.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 06:05pm, Friday 13 May.  
Location: Lock Haven, PA.  
Subject: Garfield Logan.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

I am bereft of options at this point. I can tell that Garfield is in there somewhere, but he is buried so deeply and camouflaged so thoroughly that I am not able to establish even the most tenuous connection. The animal mind is in control, and the animal mind is not happy. Rarely have I encountered a more suspicious creature. It does not trust anything about me.

Terra is still in a light state of induced coma to facilitate her healing. I will go there shortly and see what may be done to hurry things along. I've rested and eaten and spent half an hour meditating, and I feel good enough now to lend a hand. Perhaps Terra's presence will act as a catalyst, and Garfield can regain control of his mind.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 07:20pm, Friday 13 May.  
Location: Lock Haven, PA.  
Subject: Garfield Logan.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

**Raven**: I have Terra with me now. She will be too weak to take part in any battles for probably another day, two at the most, but she is ambulatory and is, to understate the case rather severely, very eager to help with Garfield's problem. We are currently standing outside the room where he is being kept. I can see him, crouched against the far wall and watching us. He does not feel happy. Neither would I, were I in his position. His wounds have been salved and bandaged, but they still hurt terribly. I can feel the waves of pain coming from him.

**Terra**: Oh, shit! Can you really?

**Raven**: Yes.

_(A few indistinct clicks and scrapes signal the heavy door being opened.)_

**Terra**: Gar?

_(There is a low growl, barely audible.)_

**Terra**: Gar … Honey … it's me, Terra. Remember?

**Raven**: I would be most circumspect in approaching him, were I you.

**Terra**: He won't hurt me.

**Raven**: You sound very confident. … Terra, wait. Come back a step, please. … Thank you. You must remember that Gar is not in full control of this form. You may simply be dealing with a wounded and thoroughly agitated animal. That animal may lash out in its pain.

**Terra**: Gar is in there. He won't hurt me.

**Raven**: I hope fervently that you are correct.

**Terra**: Gar? Can I come look at your wounds, please?

_(More growling, louder this time.)_

**Terra**: Gar, please! It's me, Terra! Please, Honey, try to remember!

**Raven**: _Terra!_

_(There is more and louder growling, then several indistinct sounds, then the door slams closed.)_

**Terra**_ (breathing hard)_: Shit. Son of a … I mean … just … shit.

**Raven**: Did he bite you? Are you hurt anywhere?

**Terra**: No. Don't … think so. _(Several more seconds slip by while she gets her heart calmed down.)_ Damn. … . . . … Damn, Raven! _(She is actively sobbing now.) _What are … we … gonna do?

**Raven**: It is well for you that I had my soul-self readied and was able to place a barrier between you and him.

_(sounds of Terra crying quietly)_

**Raven**: _(sighs)_ Having you appeal to him was my last hope without taking drastic measures.

**Terra**: … Dr- … drastic? What's that … mean?

**Raven**: I'm going to solicit outside help.

**Terra**: Oh. … Uh, from who?

**Raven**: It's 'whom'.

**Terra**: Damn it, Raven!

**Raven**: _(sighs) _From Clarence Frazier Matchmont.

**Terra**: … Never _(sniff)_ … Never heard of him.

**Raven**: You might know him better as Mumbo.

**Terra**: …

**Raven**: Don't look at me like that.

**Terra**: He's crazy!

**Raven**: He's eccentric and temperamental and occasionally exhibits a disturbing lust for larceny and mayhem. But he _isn't_ crazy. And he _is_ an expert at transformational magic.

**Terra**: How's he gonna be any help with a buncha aliens?

**Raven**: The alien tech uses a form of magic I am not familiar with, as you know. That also applies to the Justice League.

**Terra**: But … Mumbo? Come on! He hates the Titans!

**Raven**: Perhaps. But I can be … persuasive. _ (sounds of rustling and several seconds of silence) _… Um … Terra? You are quite pale. Back to bed.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 10:15am, Saturday 14 May.  
Location: Iron Heights Correctional Facility, Keystone City, PA.  
Subject: Mumbo (Clarence Matchmont).  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

I arrived at the prison at eight o'clock sharp because I had been told by the so-helpful government drone who answered the phone last night that the warden's office would be open at that time. Normally I try not to get my hopes up when dealing with bureaucracies, past experience being a reliable guide, but the distraction of dealing with Garfield's condition caused me to overlook the possibility that I was being handed a mendacity. THAT misunderstanding was cleared up shortly after my arrival when I was informed that I'd be cooling my heels for an undisclosed amount of time.

That was something I really didn't feel that I had.

Under most circumstances, I am willing to queue up along with everyone else when dealing with a government functionary, primarily due to the fact that losing one's temper at the typical display of galling inefficiency doesn't really help one's cause. Garfield's condition took that out of my hands. I determined where the warden's office was, and teleported in. As it turned out, he was most amenable to reason, once I made my case. Or perhaps he didn't care for having four red eyes staring into his soul and promising a grisly and permanent outcome if I didn't get satisfaction. In either case, I was very soon ushered into Mumbo's cell.

He was not happy to see me. Considering that he had once turned me into a rabbit and then took a stab at killing all of us, I can't say I blame him. He may have thought I was there for revenge, given my demonic heritage. That would be logical. So he was very surprised – one might term him gobsmacked – when I told him I was there for his help. I recorded the conversation and will insert it here.

**Raven**: You should close your mouth. It may attract flies.

**Mumbo**: … There is no way in hell that you're being serious. What's your game?

**Raven**: I'm being perfectly serious.

**Mumbo**: I don't believe you.

**Raven**: Surely, even here, you cannot be unaware that an alien invasion force is attempting to take over the planet.

**Mumbo**: Yeah, we heard something like that. Didn't believe it either.

**Raven**: They attacked on Tuesday. Took out the Watchtower and four JLI headquarters, and blockaded the rest of them.

**Mumbo**: ...

**Raven**: What, no sprightly comeback?

**Mumbo**: You're lying.

**Raven**: I have no reason to do that. If you want to check my facts, call the guards. Turn on any television or radio. It's the only news story being broadcast.

**Mumbo**: … I'll just do that little thing.

I called the guard and then waited, not exactly patiently, while Mr. Matchmont checked out my story. He viewed various news channels for some twenty minutes until I insisted that he listen to me. He appeared very thoughtful and his emotional aura was greatly subdued, which I decided I could use to my advantage.

**Raven**: So are you still calling me a liar?

**Mumbo**: … No. That's … ah … disturbing.

**Raven**: A planetary invasion? Disturbing? You, sir, are a true master of the hyperbolic understatement.

**Mumbo**: … I know you didn't come all the way out here just to ruin my appetite with this news.

**Raven**: Indeed not. When I said I needed your help, I meant it.

**Mumbo**: What sort of help?

**Raven**: You are an expert in the use of transformational magic.

**Mumbo**: Yeah? So? Fat lotta good that does me without my wand.

**Raven**: I was never able to decipher exactly how you pulled it off. Your variety of wizardry is different enough from mine that I didn't even have the right tools to study it.

**Mumbo**: Okay. Again, so what?

**Raven**: The invading aliens, who we strongly suspect are interdimensional, incorporate what we think is a type of transformational magic into their weapons.

**Mumbo**: ...

**Raven**: Yes.

**Mumbo**: Uh … yeah. So … what, you want me to look at them?

**Raven**: I do.

**Mumbo**: You do? _**You**_ do? Not, 'The Titans do' or 'The Justice Leaguers do'?

**Raven**: Correct. The JLI is not aware of my presence here.

**Mumbo**: Heh. … Consorting with the enemy, huh?

**Raven**: Be that as it may, I feel you are, perhaps, the only reasonable alternative left.

**Mumbo**: And you need to figure them out because … ?

**Raven**: My reasons for this action are my own.

**Mumbo**: Okay, then! (sound of hands clapping once) Let's look at it pragmatically. What's in it for me?

**Raven**: If you can reverse-engineer one of their weapons and define the magical energy source in such a way that I can understand it, I will free you from this prison.

**Mumbo**: ...

**Raven**: You needn't give me such an incredulous look. I am not in the habit of lying.

**Mumbo**: Let me just … prognosticate for a bit. … Here is my supposition: those monsters hit one of your teammates with that weapon you're talking about. He or she is either dying or transformed now, and you can't figure out how to fix it. You've exhausted all your other options, and I'm some sort of final solution.

**Raven**: The particulars of the situation are not in the realm of "need to know" for you.

**Mumbo**: Heh. I'm right, though. But there's a problem with that little Free-The-Mumbo scenario, kid.

**Raven**: To wit?

**Mumbo**: Your buds will just catch me again.

_(there is a brief pause and a rustling as of heavy cloth)_

**Raven**: I had anticipated your objection. Kindly open that valise.

**Mumbo**: Damn, this thing's heavy!

**Raven**: It contains twelve-point-five kilograms of .999 fine gold, in fifty-gram bars.

**Mumbo**: …

**Raven**: You may count it if you like.

_(a pair of clicking sounds are followed by some twenty-five seconds of muted rustling)_

**Mumbo**: Okay. You're talking my language now, at least. But this still doesn't … what's that?

**Raven**: A passport.

**Mumbo**: … Chilton S. Meyers? Who the hell … wait a minute! That's me!

**Raven**: Indeed.

**Mumbo**: What are you playing at?

**Raven**: If you can successfully decrypt the secrets of the aliens' weapons, I will transport you to the non-extradition country of your choice, with that passport and that case of gold.

**Mumbo**: … Did you _**steal**_ this gold?

**Raven**: No, not in the sense you are thinking. Suffice to say that there are other dimensions where gold is nothing more than a useful engineering material, and aluminum is made into jewelry.

**Mumbo**: …

**Raven**: Now ... do we have a deal?

Without belaboring the point, I secured Mr. Matchmont's cooperation. I have secreted him in a safe place where he can work on the weapon in peace, and will now return there to watch him. Just because I still have his gold and his passport doesn't mean I trust him in the slightest.

Raven out.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Instinct – Chapter 6**_

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 11:10am PST, Sunday 15 May (Earth time).  
Location: A conveniently proximal pocket universe.  
Subject: Mumbo.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

This record, I have been given to understand, will automatically upload as soon as I am back within range of the secure server's receiver.

Mr. Matchmont has made significant headway with the reverse-engineering of the Mmn!'m weapon. He was … ah … extremely hesitant about working in this space, but after I demonstrated the safety and seclusion of the house I set up here, he seemed resigned to doing things my way. I believe he had entertained some thoughts of escape. That, it might as well be said, is not on.

Time passes approximately 230 percent faster here than in Earth's dimension, which means we get three hours and eighteen minutes for every one that Garfield sees. I trust Mr. Matchmont will be able to complete his labors before a day has passed back home.

I will check on his progress again now. Raven out.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Damn it.

_(several seconds of muted clicks and scratching noises pass)_

There. Stupid sack o' shit.

_(a few more seconds of clicks and snaps)_

Right. This is Jinx. It's about sundown on Tuesday. Uh … Damn it.

_(a few long, cleansing breaths can be heard)_

Gar, um, got hurt again. I think.

Okay, sorry. Lemme catch you up on developments.

Raven snitched Mumbo outta prison an' cloistered his wrinkly ass in some little side dimension she found so he could figure out how the Slugs' phaser things worked. Which he did, but then he tried to pull a fast one on Raven. He sneaked the power unit out an' combined it with a chair leg to make himself a wand. It didn't work too well, though, an' when he tried ambushing her, Raven made him eat it. A little while in Nevermore, an' a little chat with Rage, an' he changed his tune. Spilled his guts about how the Slugs' weapons work. So then Raven figured she could do some kinda reverse-magic-engineering an' reset the weapon so's it would undo whatever got done to Mean Green in the first place.

Oh, that's another thing. He's not so much green anymore. I mean, yeah, he's still kinda green-tinted, but there's other colors in his fur, too, now, an' it just looks weird. Of course, he's _**behaving**_ weird, so no surprise there. When Raven got back she was muttering something about "mitochondrial" this an' that, an' "default state" somethin' else, an' lookin' real worried, an' of course that got me worried along with her. She seemed to think the color change was a Real Bad Thing, an' she disappeared into a lab for a couple hours an' blocked the door with that black soul-self stuff. Yeah, I can take a hint.

Anyway, she got it fixed, or fixed to her liking maybe, an' then she went an' got Terra an' the three of us trooped on down to where Gar was.

She still couldn't get through to him. She did say he wasn't hurting as bad, though. I heard once that hyenas have this … this souped-up immune system an' they … they don't really much get sick an' never get infections an' stuff.

_(another pause, accompanied by a few sniffling sounds)_

So I guess a … super-sized hyena would … would have a super-sized immune system, 'cause his wounds were nearly healed. All that meant, though, was that he looked even _**more**_ intimidating when he put his hackles up an' growled at us. He's just … he's freakin' huge.

_(several seconds of silence pass)_

Yeah. Okay. Raven … whoo … Raven wanted to try merging with Terra's mind to see if the combination couldn't maybe find Gar in there somewhere. I don't think Blondie would be too keen on that under normal conditions, but she was totally up for anything that might help her guy. So they sat down together in front of the door, leaned their foreheads together, an' got really quiet.

Terra told me later it was one of the scariest, weirdest things she'd ever done. Raven took me on a brief tour of Nevermore one time, so I, uh … you know. I get it. I really do.

Anyway, she thought she felt a glimmer of him. Terra, that is, not Raven. An' I was watching him the whole time, an' he did seem like he calmed down a lot at one point. He pretty much stayed calm for a while after that. No more growling, anyhow.

So then the two of 'em floated up on one of her black disk things an' I opened the door for 'em, an' they went in to where he was. I had a hella hex load built up, you know, just in case. Both my hands were glowing bright pink. I'd seen what Mega-Gar did to a frickin' _**regiment**_ of Slugs, an' I wasn't about to take any chances with my girl that didn't just _**have**_ to be taken. You know? Seriously. Anybody would'a done the same.

Really. Anybody would.

_(there is a twelve-second pause)_

Okay. I guess maybe I … I _**was**_ being a little over-cautious. And … yeah, I guess that's what messed things up. It's as much my fault as anybody's. But, damn it, I'd do it again. He was gonna … they weren't paying any attention to … an' it all happened so … so fast.

_(eight seconds pass, and muted sniffling noises are heard)_

Right. … Okay. … So Raven tried to … aim the thing at Gar, an' … he sorta went … berserk. An' then the ray hit him, an' it was sorta yellowish-green, an' he yelped an' jerked around … an' then he went after Raven.

I was primed an' hot. Rae was concentratin' on workin' the ray thing, an' she sorta jerked an' gasped an' … an' Terra screamed, an' really, I would too with that monster bearing down on me, an' I … I don't really think you could say I panicked or anything … exactly … but I let loose. Big time.

It was a basic hex bolt. You know, the generally-screw-things-up-an'-break-shit kind of basic. I wanted to knock him back, give Rae a chance to get her shield up, but Terra …

See, she was real worried about him to start with, so when he howled … man that was some noise. Scared me outta a year's growth. But she jumped up an' tried to get between 'em …

Well. Anyway … my hex blast kinda … caught everything. Knocked Gar back, yeah, did a number on him. Rang his bell. But it touched Terra an' Rae, too, an' they went tumblin', an' …

It, uh … it hit the weapon, too.

You know how you're not s'posed to mix different kinds of magic? Yeah. I guess that goes for magic and hex force, too, 'cause the thing kinda … blew up.

It was still … still pointed at Gar, an' he was real disoriented-like 'cause o' the hex blast. Like I said, it all happened so fast. But Rae was too shocked to make a shield, an' Terra didn't have any dirt to use, an' … an' he was tryin' to get back on his feet.

_(six more seconds pass, with muted sniffling barely audible)_

I grabbed an arm for each an' dragged 'em back outside the room. I bet there wasn't half a second between when I got the lock engaged and when he rammed into it. Shook the whole damn building.

An' I could see, right there through that little window of bullet-proof glass stuff, that he was bigger. Bigger, an' still growin'.

Hang on. Gotta talk to the Force Recon guys. Back in a minute.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 10:40pm PST, Tuesday 17 May (Earth time).  
Location: Lock Haven, PA.  
Subject: Garfield Logan.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

This is so maddening.

I have secured another of the Mmn!'m ray weapons and have begun the re-engineering process, since Jinx's hex destroyed the first model. I only hope it isn't too little, too late.

Garfield now stands approximately three-point-five meters at the shoulder and probably masses at least four thousand kilos … perhaps five. His wounds are completely healed. And he is just as deeply buried as before, and the animal side is getting very tired of confinement.

_(about ten seconds of silence pass)_

I will attempt to complete the record Jinx was entering.

I had changed the shape of the Mmn!'m weapon so that it did not, I thought, _resemble_ a weapon, and with this I had intended to execute a system reboot on my teammate. I suspected that if he did not know it was a weapon, I would be able to dose him sufficiently before he realized what was happening. The hope in that was that his mind would regain control over the body, which would, of course, render him harmless to us.

This, as things turned out, was not the best plan I could have crafted.

His reaction was instantaneous and devastating, and he was on us before I even realized he had moved. If Jinx had not been prepared with a hex blast, someone else would be entering this record now. However, although her parry had the intended effect on Garfield, it splashed somewhat and hit Terra and me. It also hit the altered weapon.

I have never truly understood Jinx's abilities. I know that she has a limited control over reality in her immediate area, and can affect probability to a degree, generally by giving a hefty boost to the local entropy levels, and thus disrupting the targeted system. She is swift death to locking mechanisms and internal combustion engines if she wishes to be. But the exact functioning of her powers? The details and niceties and specific triggers? As she would say, not so much. She has tried to explain it before, has done her best to show me how it works, but I do not possess the inherent sensitivity necessary to recognize the power, and so words are of little use.

Be that as it may, some of her hex blast bled over into the weapon. The hex energy mixed in some way that I do not comprehend with the power core, and the result was rather more than spectacular. The discharge beam, which had originally been a light chartreuse shade, flashed to white and then faded to a pale lavender for most of a second, and it was trained on Garfield the entire time. I have no idea what the change in color signified, or whether it aided or deterred our cause. What I do know is that it caused him to approximately double in size.

I'm going to turn this recorder over to Terra. She is making remarkable progress in healing her broken leg. I begin to suspect that among her abilities is a measure of regeneration. Either that, or my own healing powers are more potent than I knew, at least where she is concerned.

Starfire just informed me that Nightwing needs me in a meeting. I knew we were supposed to brief the new Force Reconnaissance group on what we knew of the Mmn!'m, but I fail to comprehend how my input is going to help. Nevertheless, I must make an appearance. Even given Garfield's current dire predicament, the protection of our planet comes first. And more of the invaders seem to be appearing all the time. I was given to understand that the League's best scientists were working on the problem, but in the meantime … in the meantime, we get to fight.

If only there weren't so many of them.

Raven out.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Okay, we've caught a break, so I'm gonna get updated here.

This is Terra. It's about … okay, it's 0420 hours on Wednesday morning. We had a little run-in with some more Slugs around midnight, and I felt good enough to help out. Pulled a variation of that knives-of-rock-from-the-ground trick I came up with a couple days ago … uh, make that … five? Yeah, it was last Thursday. I think. Kinda hazy. But it worked, like, super great. Chopped 'em into Slug-kibble before they even knew anything was wrong. I had another nap after that, and now my leg don't hardly hurt much at all.

Anyway, what I came to tell you about was that Gar acts like he's doin' better. I went down to see him around eleven, and he just padded up to the window and flopped down with his head on his front paws, and he didn't do anything threatening at all! He just … listened to me.

He looks kinda funny now that he's not all green all over any more. Looks kinda like he's got a buncha grass growin' in his fur. But that's not important. I really think he's climbin' back into the driver's seat. He listened to me for most of an hour, and looked like he was understanding what I was saying. Eye-contact, you know? It felt good to not have to be scared of him any more.

Oh, uh, Raven said there were some more Slugs that showed up while I was asleep, but there weren't many and they took 'em out quick. I dunno what the hell we're gonna do with all the corpses once this is over.

Uh … like I said, I'd been talking to Gar for close to an hour when the Slugs showed up the first time, and then I saw, once I looked at him, that Gar had fallen asleep while I talked. I didn't want to bother him, and I had to leave then anyhow, so I just left him lie. Think I'll go back down there and see if he's awake. We've had such weird schedules lately that …

Well, crap. That's the general alarm. Guess I better go see …

_(there is a terrific crack of an explosion, Terra screams, and then twenty-seven seconds pass before she speaks again)_

Shit! ... Ow ... That hurt. ...

_(thirteen seconds pass ... gunfire may be heard in the background)_

Damn. ... More Slugs, and I think they're in the ...


	7. Chapter 7

_**Instinct – Chapter 7**_

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 1:05pm PST, Thursday 19 May (Earth time).  
Location: Lock Haven, PA.  
Subject: Garfield Logan.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

I will get to Terra's predicament presently. In the meantime, I wanted to get this into our record files. Green Lantern gave me this hard-copy. The following message is translated – as closely as feasible, according to the Justice League – from the Mmn!'m language. I will read it verbatim.

**REPORTING AGENT: Expedition Subaltern (7-Brown-Low)  
DIRECTED TO: Expedition Commander-Third (8-Green-Yellow-Quick)  
SUBJECT: Propagation of further hostilities**

**This record, we shall declare, for good of Clan (untranslatable concept) and to greater glory of Parent-of-All, to all who (strive?) for existence (beyond?) cocoon.**

**Tactics of diversion have (been given?) success. Primary objective remains undisturbed, therefore undetected. Sixty-four (untranslatable value) of vital fluid is now (safe?) at our hive.**

**Primary Diversion Force was wiped out (up to the?) completely, as Exalted (Leader?) had explained. This was not to be foreseen. Their hives will mourn. There is limitless sorrow.**

**Secondary Diversion Force suffered 86% losses before (deciding to?) retreat. Their hives will mourn. There is limitless sorrow.**

**(Our?) Tertiary Diversion Force (received?) much ill fortune. Many highly-concentrated (cells?) for resistance have we encountered. We made to (attempt to?) distract them for needed time, but our losses continued at too high numbers. We are so many dead. We feared to relinquish our task for needed time. Mourn for our empty hives. We looked to (the cells?) of native wounded. They are (unbelievably?) robust race, as you discovered for our limitless sorrow.**

**We are so many dead. This world is so many to damage. There is limitless sorrow.**

**Our attack for (the cells?) of wounded at first did seem (to have?) success. But Mighty (Undaunted?) Thing was there. Mighty (Undaunted?) Thing caused so many dead for Secondary Diversion Force. We had thought it also dead. It was given many wounds. Those wounds would have been (the death?) for so many Mmn!'m. It leaked much vital fluid. It should have been (the death?) for Thing. My (untranslatable concept) feels that there may be more than one. We did not ever encounter more than one at one time. But this one was different. It was larger and had different (more?) markings. It may be another (species?) or type.**

**We (breached?) their structure. We caused much of great damage among native wounded. Our surprise for them was total. Many are dead. But at (the lower level?) Mighty (Undaunted?) Thing was guarding one of (the Elite?). My (untranslatable concept) escaped with me. None other is left. There is limitless sorrow.**

**It was (at the same?) while of our diversion that your message came from primary objective. We moved (so far?) back away gone from **_(this odd construction may indicate great speed)_** structure. Mighty (Undaunted?) Thing did not follow.**

**We now move to go at all haste many times for primary objective. Our diversion is complete and we may return to hive.**

And that's done, for what it's worth. I will try to return to it later.

Now … well … I hardly know where to begin. The attack referenced in this … odd missive happened at the military hospital where the Army was keeping Garfield, and indeed there were a great number of casualties; at least a hundred, the vast majority of them patients. The Mmn!'m wiped out the top two floors and made deep inroads on the bottom two. But they had reckoned without the Megistotherium.

Apparently Garfield heard them in the first instant of their attack, and had enough presence of mind to understand that it would put Terra in danger. In hindsight, it is obvious that, ever since gaining his increased mass, the room was not "containing" him, in the sense that he couldn't leave. Per the security tapes, he went through that reinforced steel door with little more effort than he would have expended on a beaded curtain. He was out of the basement and up the stairs to the first floor, where Terra was staying, in approximately eleven seconds. Certainly in time to intercept the Mmn!'m troops that were trying to kill everyone. He fell among them and …

_(there is a brief pause and a sigh)_

… and he … ah … he wiped them out. Quickly. This new, larger form that he has attained is disproportionally stronger and tougher. He didn't seem to notice the flechette rounds that hit him several times, stopping only when no more of his foes moved.

Terra had, I believe, been injured somewhat in the explosion that opened a path for the Mmn!'m into the first floor. Garfield scrabbled and nosed about in the rubble until he unearthed her. She was moving, albeit feebly, and did not seem to be losing blood. But I imagine, given the amount of detritus that landed on her, that she may have suffered at least a few broken bones. It was impossible to determine for sure, with the low recording quality of the tapes.

When he found her …

… yes. When he found her, and she had grabbed onto his fur so he could guide her out to a more-or-less undisturbed area, and made sure that she was at least comfortable, he stepped back and morphed, very briefly, into some kind of armored dinosaur. But the transformation only lasted a fraction of a second; we had to slow the tapes down and go through them frame by frame to really see it, and even then it was mostly blurry. Then he became a small flying insect, type unknown, and the flechette rounds fell to the floor. Then he was standing there as a Megistotherium again.

This is the part that I find rather … incredible. All his wounds were gone. We counted later, and he had been struck by fourteen of those ceramic missiles. They were lying right there on the floor where they fell. All of them had blood on them. But try as we might, we have … well … he was no longer bloody. There were no holes in his pelt. It was completely unblemished. Nothing to indicate in any way that he had been struck at all.

It seems that Garfield Logan has stumbled upon a novel method of regeneration. He was never able to do that before, and I don't know the extent of the healing, but I am sure beyond reasonable doubt that his morphing eliminated his wounds.

I know it sounds … well, hard to believe. I cannot help that.

_(there is a twelve-second pause and some rustling noises, followed by another sigh)_

Right. The tapes show that he helped Terra get up on his back and then the two of them left the area. He headed north at a steady lope. Two more security cameras caught glimpses of him in the next seventeen minutes as he made his way out of town.

He and Terra have been missing for thirty-two hours and twenty-seven minutes as of right now. I can't help but feel that if I had known about the attack sooner …

No. That will not help them.

Terra's replacement communicator was found at the attack site, and so …

_(the sound of a door opening)_

**Jinx**: Hey, Rae!

**Raven**: Have they been found?

**Jinx**: … What?

**Raven**: Garfield and Terra. Have they …

**Jinx**: Oh! No. No, they're still awol.

**Raven**: Damn.

**Jinx**: None o' that, now. The JL wants us for a meetin'.

**Raven**: Concerning what?

**Jinx**: Dunno. Bring your 'corder.

**Raven**: Of course.

**Jinx**: Oh, by the by, Vic's been workin' on my unit, an' it'll pick up video now, too.

**Raven**: Useful.

**Jinx**: Okay, c'mon.

. . .

. . .

. . .

**Jinx**: This is Jinx again. It's about half past one on … hey, Rae, what's today?

**Raven**: How can you _possibly_ not …

**Jinx**: Don't gimme no lip, woman. Is it Wednesday or Thursday?

**Raven**: Thursday.

**Jinx**: Right. It's one-thirty on Thursday afternoon. We're in a meetin' with the JL. Dunno why yet.

_(several clicking and scratching noises occur as the recorder is set up on a table … the video feed begins)_

**Jinx**: A'ight, we got vid.

_(the scene pans around a bit shakily as Jinx gets video of the attendees)_

**Jinx**: We got Wonder Woman, Supes, the Bat, the Flash, an' Green Arrow. Plus the non-missing Titans. Oh, an' looks like Argent showed up. Funky.

**Superman**: _(holding up a hand)_ "No formalities necessary. I think we all know each other." _(pointing at Batman)_ "Floor's yours."

**Batman**: _(pausing to make sure he has everyone's attention)_ "We – that is, the Earth – seems to be missing approximately 1,350 cubic kilometers of ocean."

_(The Titans just stare at him. Finally ...) _

**Starfire**: Please … I am unfamiliar with a basis for comparison. That seems like … a very great amount of water. Is it?

**Batman**: Yes, it is. Not compared with the total volume, though. It's only about a ten-thousandth of one percent. But it's measurable. What we think of as 'sea level' has dropped about four millimeters.

**Nightwing** (almost inaudibly): Damn.

**Jinx**: Won't that mess with the weather?

**Batman**: Probably.

**Cyborg**: How'd you find out?

**Wonder** **Woman**: Poseidon told us.

_(there is a general silence as the Titans stare at her.)_

**Nightwing**: … Poseidon? The … the sea-god guy?

**Wonder** **Woman**: Yes. He told Hera. Hera told my mother.

**Cyborg**: Buh … When did he find out?

**Wonder Woman**: Several hours ago, shortly before Ha- … um, Green Lantern finally found a way to translate the written part of the Mmn!'m language. Poseidon hadn't been aware of it before because none of the creatures in the area survived to bring him the news. But when the leakage stopped … some of them managed to escape.

**Nightwing**: But … how did … how could … why would …

**Batman**: Would you like to firm up that muddy thinking?

**Nightwing**: … Fine. Where did all that water go?

**Batman**: Presumably to the homeworld of the Mmn!'m, wherever that is.

**Raven**: So we still don't even know where they come from?

**Batman**: _Came_ from. They are all gone, as far as we can tell.

_(everyone sits and absorbs that news for a bit)_

**Raven**: So … their gateway to our world is still a mystery?

**Superman**: After a fashion. Dr. Fate was able to locate and seal off one portal. But there must be others. He said something about conjoined ley-lines and interplanar perigee, but it didn't make a lot of sense to the rest of us.

**Raven**: Ley lines!

**Wonder** **Woman**: … Yes? What about them?

**Raven** _(rising from her seat)_: That's how I can find Garfield! With the rest of the Mmn!'m gone ...

_(Raven vanishes in a swirl of black mist)_

**Wonder** **Woman**: Jinx? Do you know what that was about?

**Jinx**: Not the first foggiest. But I think she's gonna need my help. Later, people.

. . .

. . .

. . .

Current time: 9:48pm PST, Saturday 21 May.  
Location: Slaty Fork, WV.  
Subject: Garfield Logan.  
Chronicler of Record: Raven.

**Raven**: I am an utter failure as a super-heroine and a friend.

**Jinx**: And your hobby is Being-Too-Hard-On-Yourself. Now cut it out.

**Raven**: It's true.

**Jinx**: It's bullshit. You've driven yourself to the brink of exhaustion trying to find him. Now lie down there on that bed and go to sleep!

**Raven**: How am I supposed to sleep when …

**Jinx**: Shut it, girl. You aren't doing anyone any good when you're so tired you get cross-eyed.

**Raven**: But …

**Jinx**: No. I'm putting my foot down this time. You sleep. I'll do the recording.

**Raven**: … Oh, very well.

**Jinx**: Close your eyes … . . . … good. Now, keep 'em closed.

_(there is the sound of bed springs squeaking)_

**Raven**: What are you …

**Jinx**: Shhhhhh. Be still. I've got you.

**Raven**: … That feels nice.

**Jinx**: Just relax.

**Raven**: … Okay.

**Jinx**: _(singing)_  
Who is that nestled so soft in my arms?  
What bonnie wee lass has me caught in her charms?  
Whose eyes so bright as the diamonds do shine?  
Whose brow as pale as the …

**Raven**: Is … is that a lullaby?

**Jinx**: … It might be.

**Raven**: You're trying to sing me to sleep?

**Jinx**: If that's what it takes.

**Raven**: Where did you learn it?

**Jinx**: I've known it since I was little. Mom used to sing them to me.

_(there is a pause of several seconds)_

**Raven**: I do believe that is the sweetest thing you've ever done for me.

**Jinx**: Is it working?

**Raven**: … I don't know. Why don't you sing some more. You have a really nice … _(Raven interrupts herself with a long yawn)_ … nice voice. Heh. Sorry.

**Jinx**: _ (singing slowly in a low voice)_  
All through the night there's a little brown bird singing,  
Singing in the hush of the darkness and the dew ...  
Singing in the hush of the darkness and the dew.  
Would that his song through the stillness could go winging,  
Could go winging to you,  
To you.

All through the night-time my lonely heart is singing  
Sweeter songs of love than the brown bird ever knew ...  
Sweeter songs of love than the brown bird ever knew.  
Would that the song of my heart could go a-winging,  
Could go a-winging to you,  
To you.

… Raven?

Heehee! That didn't take long. She's so cute when she's sleeping.

_(nearly half a minute passes in relative silence … there is the sound of a door closing)_

Okay. Hopefully she'll sleep all night. Poor silly thing. Anyway, I can get stuff caught up now.

Um … right. Okay, my recorder, that Cy worked on, finked out on me yesterday morning. So I'm using Rae's. An' just for the record, she's _**not**_ a failure, and she's _**not**_ a 'bad friend'. An' she did find him. Sort of.

We found where he'd been. Several times. He can move really fast, an' for a creature that big, he doesn't leave much of a trace.

They skirted around close to a town … what was it, Meyersdale? Maybe? Eh, Rae would remember. I'll ask her tomorrow. Anyhow, Terra managed to score some paper somehow, an' she left us a note. Left somebody a note. Stuck into the top of this really tall, really narrow pile of rocks, where nobody who couldn't fly could get to it. And, yeah, she knows how close Green Bean an' Rae are, so I guess it was meant for us. Here, I'll read it. For a kid who grew up basically wild, she's got good handwriting.

_Dear Titans -_

_I don't know how long we'll be out like this. Maybe a really long time. It's hard to know. Gar wants to make sure of some things first, and that might take a while._

_He's back to being himself. I mean mentally. He's in control again. And he can shapeshift if he has to, but it's a lot more comfortable for him to just stay in Mega form._

_You probably ought to know that he can regenerate damage if he gets wounded now. That's not something he was able to do before. All he has to do now is shift to some other animal, and POOF, he's healed. He says it doesn't hurt and it doesn't make him tired or anything._

_I'm going to stay with him now. I'm pretty sure I got a broke arm when the Slugs attacked that last time, but it was just a simple fracture at worst and I've got it splinted and it don't hurt much now and there wasn't anything else except for some bruises and scrapes. So don't worry._

_I asked him, and he says that if some of you want to look for us, he won't object. But he's not going to make it easy. He needs to stay down. Keep a low profile. There's no telling what kind of ruckus it would stir up if some farmer or herder spotted him on their land, and we don't need that kind of grief, you know?_

_So, anyway, he's fine and I'm fine. He hunts for us, and I handle the cooking. For me, anyhow. He doesn't need things cooked._

_I'm going to leave this letter in a protected place, but easy enough to find that you'll get it. If we have more to report later, well, I guess I'll do it again._

_So don't worry about us. We're okay. That Mega form had a strong instinct that came along with it, but Gar's instincts won out in the end, when he came and found me and saved me from the Slugs._

_I guess that's all._

– _Terra_

And that's about all we know, too. 'course Rae's not gonna just stop lookin' for 'em. You might say that ain't in her character. But maybe, once she's rested up good an' proper, she'll understand that they don't necessarily _**need**_ to be found. I figure, when he's ready, he'll find us. Meanwhile, he's got Terra an' she's got him, an' I don't really think they need much else.

Jinx, out.


End file.
